


Rites of The Devil's Trinity

by Lofwyr



Category: We Know the Devil (Visual Novel)
Genre: Body Horror, F/F, Gen, Misgendering, Other: See Story Notes, Parental Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lofwyr/pseuds/Lofwyr
Summary: Word gets around about what happened at that campsite, how three girls defied everyone and changed everything. Not even God FM could silence The Devil's Trinity, and being more active in the world, their rituals became Much more interesting.Three short stories, three very different rituals.
Relationships: Jupiter/Unnamed female characters
Kudos: 9





	1. Cleanse

**Author's Note:**

> CHAPTER 1 CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Viewpoint character has eating disorder, references to parental abuse (emotional/medical), deep water, viewpoint character has experience similar to drowning (but his life is not in danger at any point)
> 
> CHAPTER 2 CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Parental abuse in the form of deliberate misgendering, eye-related body horror (non-traumatic), viewpoint character experiencing delusion deliberately inflicted by another person
> 
> I've also put the above warnings at the start of each chapter, in case you need the reminder going in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 1 CONTENT WARNINGS: Viewpoint character has eating disorder, referenced parental abuse (emotional/medical), deep water, viewpoint character has experience similar to drowning (but his life is not in danger at any point)

He suppressed a gasp as he lowered himself into the bathtub filled with cold water. He heard it lap against the sides as he got in, the temperature easily biting through his skin and into the muscle and bone, chilling his too-thin body. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, still abnormally slow even after a week in hospital, and his nose was still red and itchy from where they’d taped the tube in place.

He was meant to still be there but Mum had badgered the staff into discharging him against medical advice because _of course there’s nothing wrong with my boy, why would you say that? He’s a good boy, he just has a runner’s build! He doesn’t need your dietitians and psychologists, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him so we won’t need to come back thankyouverymuch._

He picked up his phone with a trembling hand, barely able to focus on the screen and the ritual instructions, but he went through them one last time and made sure he had everything. The lapis lazuli crystals were still placed around the bath, though one or two had slipped a little from the water lapping; the tub was filled as close to the brim as he dared at four in the morning with his parents still home and topped it up with two bottles of the shittiest alcohol he could find; the trident symbols were drawn over his body, with the one over his mouth and lungs less shaky than the others, and he could feel them bleeding a little into the water.

He ignored the mocking, self-destructive voice in his head that was sounding more and more like his mother every day, closed his eyes, and spoke the words, his voice shivering from the cold of the water seeping into every pore.

"Neptune, I’m tired of being good. I want to run clear. I want all my ink and sick to boil away. I want to be a fountain of you, Neptune. I want to feel you seep through the floorboards, bring the flood, draw me down and let you pass through me. One moment is all I need. Please think of me.”

The last words are barely a whisper, and for a moment, there is only the purest silence he has ever heard. Then, just as he worried that he hadn’t done it right, he felt a cold hand wrap around his right ankle. Even with the light of the candles, he saw the long, black hair start to rise to the top of the water, floating in the ripples. He felt his breath and heart quicken as another hand wrapped around his other ankle and gently tugged his legs. Fighting every instinct to keep his head above water, he relaxed and let his body slide down under the surface.

The house, the candles, even the cold porcelain of the bathtub vanished as soon as he went under, leaving him surrounded by dark, lightless, frigid water. There was no floor, no surface, nothing to orient him save the feeling of momentarily sinking, and the gradual pressure in his chest as he held his breath, before he felt Her.

He felt cold, wet skin press against him, arms wrapped around his head and body and holding him still, the tickling touch of long, floating hair surrounding him like seaweed. He opened his eyes and saw the deep, glowing, impossibly blue eyes of Neptune staring right back him, Her face so close that all he could see was Her eyes, lighting up the water around him. There was a hardness to them, a hardness born of torment and the cruelty of others, judging him, assessing him. The pain in his chest was gone; he _felt_ like he could take another breath, but he didn’t want to.

"This is going to feel weird. But you won’t die."

Neptune’s voice is deep and washes into his mind like fresh, cool water. He nodded and closed his eyes.

Neptune’s body abruptly vanished, replaced by a powerful spiralling vortex of water that wrapped around him and sent him rocketing upwards. The jet was so sudden that it snapped his head back and forced his mouth open. He barely had time to release a scream before he felt water pour down his mouth at a speed that was _sure_ should’ve torn his guts apart. The cold was so harsh it was painful now, lancing through his body like icicles – he swore he could feel his own blood freeze in place.

He tried to close his mouth, to swallow, to give himself even a second of respite from the torrent, but the water was relentless and stopped him from moving. He felt it rush through and rasp his insides, feeling _something_ slowly peel away from them and jettison out from his feet. The water pulled and filled him, hosing him down from the inside as the water above him became clearer and brighter, the water below getting darker and thicker.

And then he felt porcelain again.

He gasped and coughed as he staggered to his knees, hacking up thick trails of black ichor that made him gag. It was all he could do to just breathe, with every heave of his chest filling his body with warmth and washing away the pain. The water around him felt icy and thick, almost like a jelly that had been put in the freezer and still not completely set.

It took all of his strength to clamber out of the bath and turn the bathroom light on. All of the lapis lazuli crystals had fallen in the now-black water. He wiped his mouth and cleared his throat, spitting the last few drops of black ichor into the bathtub and pulling the chain on the plug.

The black water drained out, but almost reluctantly, as if it was trying to grab hold of the sides of the tub and pull itself out, reach out to him for help. He watched as it slowly swirled down the drain, leaving no sign of the crystals he’d bought or even that the bathtub had been used.

He blew out the candles and sat down on the bathmat, slowly drying himself off in the darkness. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he had a thought that wasn’t corrupted by guilt, pain, or self-loathing:

_I hope there’s still some cheesecake in the fridge._


	2. Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 2 CONTENT WARNINGS: Parental abuse in the form of deliberate misgendering, eye-related body horror (non traumatic), viewpoint character experiencing delusion deliberately inflicted by another person

“000, what’s your emergency?”

The phone trembled against his ear. He rubbed his free hand across his face, feeling the days of stubble scour his grimy palm, the stinging in his reddened eyes refusing to relent even for a moment. The only light he had was the glow of the cordless phone as he lay curled up in the wardrobe, clothes shielding him from the poster on the wall outside the door that he knew was staring right at him. He would’ve ripped it off the wall like he had with the others, but his wife had gone to great expense to get it signed and framed for him, and he didn’t want to destroy it no matter how many walls its eyes tracked him through.

“000, are you still there?”

He barely heard the operator’s voice over the pounding of his heart in his ears. “Yes, I’m here. I think I need an ambulance, please. Everyone keeps staring at me,” he manages to stumble out, the words pressured and squashed too close together.

“How do you mean?”

He gasped and ran his hand over his face again, trying to turn away so he could at least pretend the poster couldn’t see it. “It’s… for the past…” Fuck, how long had it been? Five days? Six? A week? “… the past week, I think, I keep getting everyone staring at me, just making unbroken eye contact _all the time._ ”

“Really?”

He couldn’t tell if the operator was concerned or confused – maybe both, maybe neither. He counted himself lucky he’d had enough presence of mind left to make the phone call in the first place. “Yes. At first it… it was just people I was in the same room with, while they were looking at me. I thought… I thought it was weird at first, but I ignored it, thinking maybe it was just my imagination.” He tried to drink from a bottle of water, but his hand was shaking so much it only ended up spilling it down the front of his shirt. 

“I tried – I tried to go to sleep that night but I couldn’t because my wife was making eye contact with me, _and she sleeps with her back to me._ Then _everyone_ was making direct and unbroken eye contact with me, _even when there was no possible way they could do that._ Do you have any idea how _fucked up_ it is to _know_ that someone won’t break eye contact with you even when they’re watching you from a security camera, or standing on the other side of a _fucking wall?_ ”

“Please don’t swear sir.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just… and now it’s _everything_. I had to get my wife to take the cats away with her because they wouldn’t stop staring at me _while they were sleeping at the other end of the house._ The posters on the wall keep staring at me, everyone on TV’s staring at me – I had to throw out the _potatoes_. I haven’t left my house in days. I haven’t seen my…” His eyes widened as his sleep-deprived, paranoid mind finally made a connection. “Wait. This… this all started…”

“Sir?”

“This all started the day after I had that argument with my son. He –”

The voice suddenly changed to pure static, filled with condemnation, slapping his eardrum hard enough that it felt like he’d been physically struck. He recoiled from the handset and saw that the glowing screen had changed from what it was meant to be to a single, unblinking yellow eye.

Suddenly the wardrobe doors were hurled open; the entire space flooded with a blinding light and stifling heat that made it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes and covered them with his arms, still feeling the poster staring at him as he felt feathers pick him up and hurl him onto the bed, forcing his arms away. He opened his eyes and screamed in pure terror as all he could see were golden wings and thousands upon thousands of eyes, surrounding him in every direction, unblinking, judgemental, and all making direct eye contact with him.

“Venus.” He had no idea how he knew Her name; it just tumbled from his lips, bypassing all thought. “Did he do this?”

The static surged in volume, drilling into his brain. He clutched his ears in a futile attempt to muffle the sound, unable to look away from Her. He could feel his eyes drying out and he couldn’t even force himself to blink. He saw images flash before his eyes – his child kneeling in a circle of static-filled radios, celestite crystals, and yellow eyes drawn on every part of their body they could reach, a single brown eye looking through a feather that slowly changed to yellow. He saw his child getting on a bus, a suitcase in their hand, their other hand holding the hand of someone he didn’t recognise. He felt the rush of wings as his child spoke, their voice trembling through tears, somehow clearly audible over the static:

“Venus. I want to be seen. I want those around me to see me as I am, see the light that passes within and without me, through and about me. I want him to see the truth and all eyes laid bare for him, to make him feel what I feel, what he makes me feel. One moment is all I need. Please think of me.”

The man felt tears stream down his face as he realised what had been done to him, his eyes still refusing to close no matter how hard he tried. “Venus, please, please make it stop,” he begged, his voice weak and trembling with terror under Her unrelenting gaze. “I’ll do anything, anything You ask of me. Anything he asks of me. Just _make it stop._ ”

“Sorry – you don’t have a son anymore.”

The static became a scream, wordless and filled with pain and rage. He clutched his head as he felt his brain rattle, the sound lasting for what felt like an eternity before suddenly cutting out. All the light vanished, the wings and eyes gone from the room, leaving the man in darkness, lying on his bed, the only sound his own heavy, frightened breathing.

Then he felt a hot, peeling sensation, and looked down to see his own eyes staring at him from his wrists.


	3. Connect

`You ready to start yet?`

`Yes – my housemates Finally left.`

`Great! Got everything?`

She checked the circle she’d drawn out one more time. She had the bloodstones, the hair ties wrapped in a cross around her left wrist, and she was down to the heavy green jacket, a plain T-shirt, and underwear. Outside it was dark thanks to the storm that was starting to roll in, and the house was finally quiet.

`Yes. I’m ready. Fuck, I’m getting hot just thinking about it.`

`Me too. Okay, here’s the timer.`

A link popped up on her computer monitor, the only source of light in the room – a fifteen-second timer, giving her enough time to arrange herself in the circle on her knees. She closed her eyes, reached out her hands and dipped them into a small pot of red body paint, reciting the ritual words as she painted the symbol for Jupiter across her chest and the timer ran out:

“Jupiter. I want to touch. I want to be touched. I want to feel as You feel. I want to feel Your pull on my skin, and I want to feel her too. I want to feel Your hands linking ours, touching us, and letting us feel each other as we feel You like a mist around us. One moment is all we need. Please think of us.”

As she finished painting the symbol across her chest, she felt another pair of hands gently slide down her shoulders and ease the coat off, tossing it onto the floor behind her. She felt more and more hands across her – reaching for her, stroking her hair, caressing her beautiful fat body as though she were the most sensuous creature in existence. She gasped as she felt countless hands across her body, exploring her with comforting and anticipatory hunger.

One hand cupped under her chin and gently coaxed her to stand, and she felt gentle fingers caress her eyelids. She opened her eyes and saw the bright, hungry, red eyes of Jupiter before her, Her body hidden with countless hands. One hand reached down her left arm and pulled hard on the hairties, snapping them off in one deft motion. She couldn’t help but look into Her eyes, feeling the storm behind them.

“I hope you’re not attached to that T-shirt.”

Her voice an intoxicating purr and low rumble all at once. It was all she could do to shake her head.

She barely heard the clap of thunder outside over the sound of hands tearing the cheap T-shirt off her body, feeling more hands slide down her hips and legs and taking her underwear with them, leaving her gloriously naked before Jupiter. She felt more hands, but now arms, breasts, legs, a mouth just as seeking and hungry as hers, the heady scent of a body that was all too distant and achingly familiar all at once.

She knew her girlfriend’s body anywhere, even without the benefit of sight.

Her world collapsed into one of pure, unadulterated sensation. Her eyes were closed – there was no need for sight here. She heard the sound of the storm both outside her room and inside surrounding her, the waves of rain joined by the sound of skin on skin, moans as powerful as thunder. Her lungs filled with the scents of rain, sweat, and lust, each breath even more intoxicating than the last. She could taste the heat of her lover, savoured the distinctive texture of her nipples in her mouth. And, oh, the touches – she lost count of whose hands were where. It was all she could do to feel everything, every hand, every square centimetre of skin, every roll and contour of her girlfriend’s body and her own, every orgasm rippling through them both like waves – she swore she could feel her girlfriend’s orgasms with just as much intensity as she did. She had no idea if Jupiter was still with them or not, and she wouldn’t have cared if the whole Trinity had decided to join in.

Finally, after the most intoxicating eternity she’d ever experienced, the storm inside and outside abated, and she opened her eyes to find herself somehow lying on her bed, still feeling the lingering traces of hundreds of hands as they ran across her body one last time. She could still feel her girlfriend’s body next to her, even though she was on the other side of the country right now, her familiar post-sex breaths in her ear, her chest rising and falling against her, one leg draped over her. She felt her girlfriend’s head move next to hers, and she turned her head to kiss her, getting her lips perfectly despite not seeing her at all.

She felt her girlfriend’s breath on her face as if she was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it. She reached over and placed one hand on her girlfriend’s stomach, and used a finger to draw a heart. She could still feel her, but it was muted like she was wearing clothes again. Her girlfriend had enough time to draw a heart in reply on her chest, the touch light and barely perceptible before the sensation of her body next to her faded away completely, leaving her alone in her room again.

She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed, feeling satisfied and deeply, profoundly connected, moreso than she’d ever felt before. She was so lost in her sensation that the sudden buzzing of her phone startled her. She picked it up to find a text from her girlfriend:

`Gtth`

She laughed at her girlfriend’s post-sex incoherency.

`That worked`

`Nnng`

`Again tomorrow?`

`Fuck. Yes.`

`I hear it works better with three people…`


End file.
